


Bokuatsu Week Drabbles

by Ereana



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bodyswap, BokuAtsu Week 2021, Fluff, Light Angst, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Outsider, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-23 15:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30057243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ereana/pseuds/Ereana
Summary: 7 Bokuatsu week drabbles for 20211) Firsts2) Soulmate AU3) Bodyswap4) Long Distance5) MSBY Shenanigans6) Royal AU7) Mutual Pining
Relationships: Bokuto Koutarou/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 10
Kudos: 83
Collections: BokuAtsu Week 2021





	1. Firsts

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1 - Firsts
> 
> Atsumu contemplates the importance of being someone's first and what it means for his and Bokuto's relationship.

It’s stupid really, and Atsumu’s know it is. He should be lounging in bed on a Sunday morning, curled up with his extremely huggable boyfriend and looking forward to a semi-lazy day in. Instead he’s in bed thinking about something stupid while Bokuto to sleep undistirbed.

There is a disappointing lack of cuddling, and if he wasn’t thinking about something stupid he wouldn’t hesitate to remedy that and snuggle up to Bokuto. But he is thinking about something very stupid and his brain just won’t shut up about it.

It’s all from a throwaway comment their captain said after practice yesterday. He’d been recounting the story of how he met Hirgugami Fukuro in high school and the long arduous journey that led to the two of them getting together. It’s impressive considering they were playing in different areas of the country and only met in person during nationals. 

Bokuto tears up everytime he hears it, and they’ve heard it a lot. Meian is head over heels for his boyfriend and it’s one of his favourite team-bonding stories to tell to new members.

Except this time he’d said something about how lucky he was that the first guy he liked felt the same and how relieved he was bla-bla-bla and Inunaki had snorted and said ‘yeah, you never forget your firsts.”

And that was the stupid thought whirling round and round in Atsumu’s head. He hadn’t even realised it had taken root like some sort of monstrous ivy plant and curled it’s vines around all his other thoughts until he found himself staring up at his bedroom ceiling unable to sleep after a full day of practice.

He didn’t think he and Bokuto had shared any firsts.

First crush? That had been Aran for him.

First kiss? Suna and an ill-advised game of spin the bottle in first year.

First boyfriend? Kita, it had begun quietly and had ended even quieter.

First time having sex? Nope.

First love? Atsumu has always given his heart away too easily.

There’s nothing that Atsumu can think of that’s new or a first for him in this relationship and it’s bugging him more than he’d like to admit. Bokuto isn’t even the first teammate he’s been in a relationship with.

It’s stupid and it shouldn’t matter. 

He huffs and turns to look at Bokuto; still sleeping and snoring, hair splayed out on the pillow with a small trail of drool trickling out the side of his open mouth.

Atsumu loves him so much. It scares him sometimes, what he’d give to keep this man in his life by his side. 

He knows he’s not any of Bokuto’s firsts either. Not the important ones anyway, Akaashi Keji had been the lucky bastard to claim most of those. And Atsumu  _ knows  _ the two of them are good friends now. He knows it took time, and effort, and sharp pain evolving into soft loss before they were ready to connect again. But there will always be a part of him that wants to be the best, that wants to claim first place, and it would be a lie to say he wasn’t jealous of what the two of them had shared.

And then he feels like a hypocritical bastard because it’s not like he even looked at Bokuto in high school; too focused on his own team, and seizing victory, and wondering if the way Kita looked at him was different to the way he looked at anyone else.

He knows it isn’t fair to feel like this but Atsumu has always been ruled by his heart more than his head.

It’s just...this is the best relationship he’s been in...maybe ever. There’s no room for doubt when you’re dating Bokuto Koutarou; affection, reassurances, compliments, he doles them out generously and Atsumu has never felt so loved before.

_ So used to giving and giving and wondering if he’s good enough. Bokuto never hesitates to remind Atsumu how he feels about him; kisses in the corner of the changing room, a hand grabbing his under the table, cuddling on the sofa during movie nights with Hinata and Sakusa unashamed of curling up in Atsumu’s lap and burying his head into his chest. _

An arm wraps around his waist and pulls him forward.

“What the…” he looks down into a single golden eye and lets out a huff of laughter. “Mornin’ handsome, sleep well?”

Bokuto yawns and snuggles closer. “Yeah, was sleeping pretty well until you woke me with all that brooding you were doing Tsum-Tsum.” First thing in the morning with his hair down and voice thick with sleep, he’s a picture that Atsumu would happily lose himself in.

“Don’t know what yer talkin’ about. Omi-kun is the brooding one not me. I don’t brood, I contemplate.” He’s deflecting and they both know it. Atsumu distracts himself by running his hand through Bokuto’s hair. It’s soft right now without the truckload of gel and product he dumps into it everyday and Atsumu takes the opportunity while he can.

Bokuto opens both his eyes and rolls them, he still nuzzles into Atsumu’s petting and lets out a sigh of pleasure.

“Well then your ‘contemplating’ woke me up. Everything alright?” He asks with a yawn.

This is where Atsumu could lie, could deflect and fob Bokuto off with an excuse. He’s good at it and with his mind still foggy with sleep Bokuto might even buy it.

But they’re beyond that now and Atsumu stops his petting to hug Bokuto close. There’s a slight grumble when at the change but Bokuto hugs him back, big and warm and everything that Atsumu hadn’t realised he wanted until it was given to him.

“It’s stupid.” He mumbles, because it is but it still gets to him. Bokuto doesn’t say anything, knowing full well that Atsumu will tell him when he’s ready, and just watches him silently. “I...does it ever bother you that we aren’t each other firsts in anythin’? Ya know like first kiss, first crush...that sorta stuff.”

Bokuto yawns and reaches down with one hand to pull the covers up. “Nope.”

“Really? Ya don’t think firsts are important?”

“I didn’t say that ‘Tsumu.” Bokuto says as he rearranges their pillows to his satisfaction. “I care more about sharing all of my lasts with you, that’s all.”

“Oh.” It’s cheesy and romantic and sappy as hell. And exactly what Atsumu needs to hear.

He doesn’t get much chance to think about firsts after that when Bokuto pulls him in close for his first kiss of the day.


	2. Soulmates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In a world of soulmates and happily ever afters Bokuto learns to live without one.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that everyone in the world is born with a soulmate. Your other half, the one fate has decreed will love you until your dying day, and a comforting certainty in a chaotic world.

At least that’s how it’s supposed to go.

Bokuto Koutarou is understandably shocked upon waking up on his tenth birthday to discover that his soulmate tattoo hasn’t appeared. He searches for it frantically and tries to convince himself that the little mole on his shoulder wasn’t there before and maybe that’s it. No-one said the tattoo had to be big right?

But eventually reality sinks in and puts an end to the desperate hoping. His sisters, his mother, his father, they all look and try to help but as the day goes on, and the birthday cake and presents lie untouched in the front room, it becomes clear the mark isn’t going to appear.

Bokuto doesn’t have a soulmate.

Doctors and psychiatrists are visited, fancy worded articles written by scientists are read, and they all do their best to search for an answer. That doesn’t matter to Bokuto though. At ten years old he looks at his empty, unmarked skin and wonders what made him so unlovable that not even fate could find someone to fit him.

It turns out there are roughly 2% of people in the world who never receive a soulmate mark. It’s never spoken about by those who know, a taboo, a shameful secret that the rest of polite society avert their gaze from. And Bokuto belongs to that group.

His family does their best to focus on the positive; he’s not alone in his condition and there isn’t anything uniquely wrong with him. His sisters find love stories of markless people who get together, his father sits with him as he signs up to an online forum and starts to reach out for advice on help, and his mother holds him tight when it all gets too much and whispers how much she loves him into his ears.

But he finds other stuff as well. The insults, the sneering, the usual small-minded bullying that seeps into every corner of the internet and the more sinister stuff; rants about how those born markless must not have a soul since they don’t have another half, how they must be sinful, an aberration to be feared and hated.

Bokuto takes it all in, and lives his life to the best of his ability. He finds volleyball, he loves it; he jumps, runs, dives, and works harder than he ever has before in his life. Volleyball might even like him back. Victory is sweet, loss is crushing but never enough to send him running from the court.

He never tells anyone about his mark. There’s always a ready excuse on his lips when the topic comes up, and he’s loud and brash enough to get away with it. He listens to stories of high school soulmates finding each other and the excited whispers of his teammates as they talk about their future partner with one ear and pushes old disappointment back into the box in his head.

He’s come to terms with his situation but it’s hard not to feel jealous. He can’t quite block that little voice in the head that whispers he’d make a pretty good soulmate if he had the chance. Bokuto doesn’t have one person to give all of his love to. So he gives it to other people instead.

Then in his second year of high school Akaashi steps into the gym for tryouts. 

And oh it would be so easy to love Akaashi, so easy to let go and fall because if there is one thing the markless have over most people is that they get to choose who to give their heart to. There’s just no guarantee of it being returned.

He almost chooses Akaashi. Akaashi who sneaks looks at him during practice, and deals with his moods with such patience, and sets for him so beautifully. Akaashi looks at him like he’s a star, and Bokuto knows if given the chance Akaashi could become his world.

_ And soulmates don’t always have a happy ending; death, divorce, jealousy. It takes him a while to learn that there’s no such thing as a perfect happy ending and that life is very different from a fairy tale.  _

But. And there’s always a but isn’t there?

Akaashi has a mark on his wrist; a black cat curling around an elegant swan framed against pale skin. 

Bokuto knows that mark. He’s seen it on the wrist of one of his best friends, who has a terrible laugh and even worse hair. So he doesn’t say anything to Akaashi, he can’t do it to Kuroo who always gets this hideously sappy look on his face whenever he looks at his mark and touches it with all the reverence of a worshipper before their god.

It’s okay, he thinks as he watches the two dance around each other for a year and Akaashi starts sending those adoring looks to someone other than Bokuto. It’s okay because his friends are happy and he decided not to fall for Akaashi in the end so it’s not like anyone was really hurt.

He ignores that sting of  _ almost  _ and regret and thinks of photos of black soulmarks from people who lost their fated one without ever meeting them, doomed to a life of what-ifs and condolences, and reminds himself that there are far worse cards to be dealt than markless skin.

Life stops for no-one and Bokuto rushes ahead with reckless abandon. Volleyball calls to him and by third year there are offers, contracts, and so many phone calls it makes his head hurt. His father helps him through it and there’s a shiny black jersey with his name on it waiting for him after graduation.

The Black Jackals are an incredible team and it takes him a while to earn his starter spot but it’s worth every hour of practice and drills when the crowd cheers for him as he steps on to the stadium court.

It’s addicting and Bokuto loves every second of it.

Then Miya Atsumu joins the team.

Bokuto knew about Atsumu of course; Inarizaki are a powerhouse high school team and they’d even played against one another in his second year. He’d seen an amazing first year setter who seemed equally demanding and supportive with a tricky pair of serves.

Nothing had prepared him for this though. Atsumu hit the Jackals like a whirlwind, determined to take the primary setter spot in his first six months and utterly ruthless and unapologetic in how blatantly he worked for it.

Abrasive. Rude. Arrogant. Disrespectful.

If those words had reached Bokuto’s ears then there was no way Atsumu hadn’t also heard them. Atsumu didn’t care and continued to blaze through the team as he carved out a place for himself.

Bokuto likes him.

It takes three days for Miya to become Tsum-Tsum and as much as Atsumu complains about the childish nickname he never asks Bokuto to stop. 

Bokuto likes him even when Atsumu confronts him in the changing room about his moods with threats and an intense gaze. Bokuto likes how upfront he is about it, how high his expectations are for his spikers, and how clearly passionate Atsumu is about volleyball.

Akaashi found ways to work around his weaknesses. Atsumu demands he confront them and win.

Comparing the two doesn’t feel fair though. Akaashi was the best setter that teenage Bokuto ever played with. His tosses were the best and Bokuto stands by that statement. Atsumu is the best setter he’s ever played with as a professional and when the two of them are in sync Bokuto feels unstoppable.

There are ups and downs. Harsh words and grudging apologies over food. They’re the two youngest members on the squad, and both from the so-called ‘monster generation, and it’s a relief to have someone to lean on in this big, crazy adult world.

Bokuto loves Atsumu’s tosses.

They feel like gifts and to squander even one of them feels like a crime. 

It’s so easy to like Atsumu. 

_ Wide eyes stare at him in shock when he admits this during game night; Atsumu’s car drives straight into the wall as Yoshi lets out a shriek but he doesn’t seem to care. Instead he’s looking at Bokuto like he’s waiting for the punchline of a joke. _

_ Bokuto smiles back at him while his Luigi motorbike bounces across the map. It takes a few seconds for Atsumu to shake his head and let out a hoarse laugh. _

_ “Well, yer one of the only people who think that Bo-kun.” There’s a resignation in his tone that Bokuto doesn’t like. _

_ He makes a point to be twice as affectionate to Atsumu over the next few weeks and counts it as a win when the other man starts to return them. _

Atsumu finds his place and the whispers change to admiration and praise. As starting setter he has less time to practice with Bokuto but he always makes the effort to and Bokuto appreciates it.

He can feel himself standing on the precipice again. A choice has to be made.

Atsumu is obnoxious laughter, sleepy yawns on a bus ride and shared hotel rooms. He’s handsome and smug and equal parts bastard and softie. He’s a better friend than he gives himself credit for. 

Bokuto thinks that Atsumu might like him back.

Lingering touches and drinks after practice. Hugs that last a second too long and a gaze that burns into his back during a game. It makes Bokuto feel giddy.

But, again he holds back. It hurts but he’ll pull away if he has to. He won’t be a placeholder for someone searching for their real forever. He knows he deserves more than that.

So he asks.

The fox on Atsumu’s back matches the one on Osamu’s, two halves of the same whole since birth.

Bokuto steps off the cliff.

He makes his choice and never regrets it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little more angsty than usual but I had fun with it :)


	3. Body Swap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Osamu wakes up in a bed that isn't his.

The ringing of an unfamiliar alarm drags Osamu into the waking world. He lets out a groan and reaches for his bedside table. Why did he even set an alarm? He’s taken a few days holiday and had been looking forward to a morning lie-in. 

Except his hand doesn’t find a bedside table, instead it whacks against a lamp that Osamu knows he doesn’t have and it prompts him to open his eyes.

“What the-” he grumbles only to pause when he takes in the rest of his surroundings. This isn’t his bedroom. It’s big and messy and Osamu does his best not to panic. He’d definitely gone to sleep in his own room and there’s no way he’s that heavy of a sleeper that he wouldn’t wake up if someone tried to move him from his bed.

The alarm continues to ring and he reaches for it, the shrill noise not helping his current state of mind, only to freeze when he sees that it’s not his phone. Same make but the lock screen is all wrong, as is the Onigiri Miya logo on the phone case. Osamu’s phone case is black with three golden slashes across the back. 

It’s Atsumu’s phone.

What the hell had his brother done?

He turns to get off the bed only to stop again because the loose sweatpants aren’t his, and he definitely hadn’t done anything recently to cause that tingling ache in his lower half. His back doesn’t hurt even after it was screaming at him yesterday when he left the restaurant.

Osamu is not sure if he’s more confused or concerned, but the sound of movement from the other room causes him to stand up and grab a shirt from the floor — not his and far too big for him — maybe someone can let him know what the hell is going on.

He barely makes it to the door when it’s flung open to reveal his potential kidnapper or saviour. Bokuto Koutarou stands there, dripping wet and only wearing a towel around his waist, sees him and immediately smiles.

Osamu isn’t sure which particular detail is making his brain short circuit; the fact that it’s the first time he’s seen Bokuto with his hair down, the surreleness of finding him on the other side of the door, the incredible display of muscle and skin on display, or the trail of hickeys and bruises he can see scattered across said chest.

What happens next nearly sends him into a stupor.

“Morning Tsum-Tsum! Bathroom’s free if you need it.”

“Bokuto-san wha-”

The rest of Osamu’s question — Tsum-Tsum what the heck? — when Bokuto strides forward and kisses him, effectively silencing Osamu which is not something even his mother had managed successfully.

_ Holy shit. _

This isn’t a peck on the lips or a jokey kiss your friend for a dare smack of mouths. It’s a proper toe-curling kiss that sends a bolt of heat down his spine. Big warm hands angle his head up by a fraction to deepen the kiss, and for just a second Osamu leans into it because damn he hasn’t been kissed that well in a depressingly long while.

Then reality sets in and he pulls back as Bokuto eases up. Bokuto, who is still cupping Osamu’s face in his hands and smiling at him like he’s the best thing he’s seen all morning.

“I’m gonna get changed and then start on breakfast. Join me when you’re done and this time I swear you’re gonna say it’s as good as your brothers.” Bokuto says with a determined nod before leaning in again to kiss him on the nose — and nearly making him go cross-eyed in the process — before letting go and striding purposefully into the bedroom which Osamu presumes is his.

Osamu doesn’t know exactly what noise he makes — some garbled choking hum of agreement — before fleeing into the corridor, but he absolutely shuts the door behind him.

He finds the bathroom easily enough, and immediately locks the door behind him. This is either an incredibly vivid dream, which seems unlikely given the very real taste of toothpaste and mouthwash on his lips, or something incredibly weird is going on.

The flash of a mirror catches his eye and he turns to see Atsumu staring back at him. He jumps back in shock only for his brother to do the same. Osamu raises a shaky hand to his head and Atsumu...his reflection does the same. 

What the hell?

His hand — his brother’s hand — is calloused and strong, but it’s missing little scars from knife cuts and the trace of old burns on the tips of the fingers. He’s managed to stay in decently good shape but the body in the mirror, and the one he looks down at, is toned in a way that he could never manage with his current job. It’s the body of an athlete, more specifically a professional volleyball player who Osamu hopes is feeling just as freaked out as he is right now.

He sits down on the toilet in a daze, phone still clutched in one hand, and tries his best to stay calm. Somehow he is in Atsumu’s body.

Okay.

He looks at the phone again. The lock screen is a squished up photo of the Black Jackals with the four members of the so-called ‘monster generation’ in the middle, all making that silly paws up celebration gesture that the fans love so much.

Osamu’s known his brother’s passcode since he was eleven and unlocks it to begin searching for his own number, and isn’t that an odd thought?

Or at least that’s what he intends to do.

Because it takes a moment for him to move past the photo on the home screen. Atsumu’s home screen is a photo of Bokuto curled up asleep on the couch; his mouth is open and it’s a very unflattering angle even for someone as handsome as the Jackal’s ace. It’s intimate, personal, and Osamu gets the sudden unwelcome feeling that he’s intruding on something Atsumu didn’t want him to see.

He thinks about the kiss, the ease in which Bokuto moved into his space, the familiarity in his touch as if he’d done it a thousand times before. His free hand plucks at the too big shirt hanging loose off his chest and as he takes in the bathroom there are even more hints; two sets of towels, toothbrushes, a shit load of hair products which Osamu can recognise about half that belong to Atsumu, the whole place screams of a shared space.

Atsumu’s phone is heavy in his hand and he wonders what he would find if he dug a little deeper.

Wonders exactly how much Atsumu hasn’t told him about whatever this is with Bokuto and why that thought stings as much as it does.

_ Why would he keep this from me? _

Because Osamu knows his brother, and all the clues and evidence are painting a picture of a relationship way more serious than a casual fling between friends. He thinks back on recent conversations between them, trying to pinpoint anything he’d missed or disregarded.

Atsumu has been happier lately, but he’d thought that had been down to the impressive winning streak the Jackals were on at the moment. Seems as though he was wrong, at least partially.

The phone rings and his own face stares back at him — of course the jerk had chosen that ugly photo of him from their cousin’s wedding — and Osamu answers it unthinkingly.

“Hello?” He says in Atsumu’s voice.

“‘Samu, please tell me that’s you?” His own voice asks, sounding stressed and more than a little scared. 

Osamu thinks of all the things he could say, all the questions he wants to ask, and all the answers he wants to demand. But at the end of the day he loves his brother.

“Yeah it’s me, yer boyfriend is a pretty good kisser.”

“The hell?! Ya stay away from Bo-kun ya dirty, body-stealing asshole!”

And Osamu always knows just what to say to him.


	4. Long Distance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A second year Bokuto returns from a prestigous national training camp and has made a new friend.

Akaashi knew from the moment he stepped into the gym for practice that something was slightly  _ off.  _ His eyes dart around the court trying to pinpoint what the source of the disturbance is but nothing immediately seems amiss; the third years are off to one side absorbed in some deep discussion, Washio and Konoha are warming up, Sarukui is speaking to Akaashi’s fellow first years while Komi is bouncing a ball on his arms. All good and accounted for apart from—

It’s unusually quiet, and Akaashi’s ears seem to strain to try and catch the sound of a missing ‘Hey! Hey! Hey!’. Fukurodani’s gym feels oddly empty without the presence of its team ace and most impressive player.

He wanders over to Washio and Konoha as he scans the room, there’s not even a hint of Bokuto anywhere in the room which is unusual to say the least.

“Is Bokuto-san not in today? I thought he returned from that national training camp last week.” He asks calmly.

Konoha snorts and jerks a finger towards the storage room. “He’s in there, said something about an urgent message then dashed off.”

That’s unusual. Akaashi turns to Washio but the middle blocker only shrugs. “Not sure who it is but he’s been texting someone all day during class.”

Very unusual.

Pushing aside the worry of Bokuto being distracted and how that might affect his game, Bokuto is not usually a very reliable texter; preferring instead to wait until he sees the person again to pick up the conversation. 

“I’m assuming this is a recent phenomenon?” Both of his teammates turn to give him a look and he braces himself for a comment about his phrasing, but Washio only smiles and Konoha’s attention is quickly caught by Bokuto emerging from the storage room clutching his phone.

“Yeah, it only started today. Haven’t got a clue who it is though? New friend in class?” They both look at Washio who shakes his head.

“I don’t think so. He didn’t act differently around anyone, but he’s hardly looked up from his screen all day.”

Akaashi frowns, that can’t be good for his eyesight and he hopes it will pass quickly.

“What about that camp he went to? The super special one that all the best players in Japan go to?” Komi pipes up from behind, causing Konoha to swear and jump to his feet. “Maybe he made a friend.”

Possible.

“You think he made a friend in three days that he got on so well they’re texting each other constantly immediately after it ends?” Washio asks doubtfully and Komi catches the ball and raises an eyebrow.

“I mean, it’s Bokuto, he draws people in, you know?”

Akaashi does know, it’s why he’s standing here in Fukurodani’s gym after all. It’s not unusual for people to be pulled in by Bokuto, but it is rarer for Bokuto to be just as drawn back in return. Coach calls for practice to start, and Akaashi puts away the musings for now as Bokuto lets out a whoop and dashes on to the court.

Practice goes well that day.

It goes well for the next week.

Normally this would not be cause for concern but Akaashi finds himself worrying anyway. Bokuto has been great, in excellent form, there have only been a couple of negative mood incidents, and Akaashi’s list of ‘ways to handle Bokuto-san’ go mostly unused.

That isn’t to say that the mood swings don’t happen, they do. A blocked spike, a mis-timed jump, losing the winning point. All the little moments that risk upsetting him still happen but...Bokuto handles it for lack of a better term. He’ll clench his fists, and the whole team can see the storm clouds brewing over his head and get ready to intervene and boost their ace, but then Bokuto will clap his hands together before slapping his cheeks and mutter something before focusing back on the game. His form still drops a bit but it’s nowhere near as dramatic.

It’s a little uncanny, and Akaashi is almost relieved in the following week when they have to cheer him up after losing the first set in a practice game.

The texting doesn’t stop. It never intrudes on practice or training but the sight of Bokuto with his phone out becomes commonplace. Neither Akaashi nor the rest of the team have been able to figure out who the mysterious person is.

The logical thing would be to ask Bokuto about it, but Akaashi isn’t yet sure enough of his position as Bokuto’s friend to ask such a personal thing. He’s glad when Konoha finally snaps and asks what they’ve all been wondering.

“Alright who is it?” He asks as they get ready to leave after practice. Akaashi isn’t sure what he’s done to be included in the little group of second years but he enjoys their company immensely.

Bokuto blinks at Konoha uncomprehendingly, his hair is out of its usual style after a quick shower and finally succumbs to gravity. “Who’s who?” 

“Don’t do that you literal owl. Who’s the person you’ve been texting non-stop for the past two weeks?” Konoha’s arms are crossed and he’s scowling at Bokuto, it lacks any real anger, only a bubbling annoyance that they all feel towards this mystery that’s been thrown into their midst.

If Bokuto realises he’s the centre of attention he doesn’t show it. Instead he blushes, a soft pink that spreads across his cheeks and he avoids Konoha’s glare with the most unconvincing “I don’t know what you’re talking about” that Akaashi has ever heard.

Satukui puts a hand on Konoha’s shoulder. “You have been acting a little off lately. We’re just a little worried.”

Bokuto looks immediately guilty at the thought of causing them to worry and Akaashi would feel more guilty about the obvious manipulation if wasn’t incredibly invested in the ace’s answer.

“You guys don’t need to worry, I’m fine. Really! I...I made a new friend that’s all.” Bokuto says with a grin. Komi narrows his eyes.

“A friend? You’ve been texting a  _ friend _ every day since you’ve come back from that national training camp thing?” The libero’s tone drips with disbelief. Disbelief that slides off of Bokuto like water off a whale’s back. He nods excitedly and the grin on his face grows wider. Whoever this mystery friend is they clearly have an extreme effect on Boktuo’s mood.

A point to consider later.

“Well duh! He lives really far away so it’s not like I’m going to see him again until nationals. And he usually texts me first so it would be really rude to leave him hanging.” Akaashi latches on to the information in those few sentences with intensity. The mystery friend is a boy, part of a volleyball team — a strong one if Bokuto believes he will go to nationals and if was invited to the prestigious training camp — who presumably lives in another prefecture and is apparently just as invested in this ‘friendship’ as Bokuto is.

The smile. The blush. The way, even now, Bokuto holds his phone tightly like it’s something precious. Akaashi doesn’t believe for a second that this is a solely platonic relationship — at least for Bokuto which throws up a whole new set of worries.

He decides to end the conversation for now and return to the matter after they’ve all had time to process the new information.

“I’m glad you’ve made a new friend Bokuto-san. You’ll have to introduce us to them at nationals.” He says calmly while catching Washio’s eye. Konoha jumps in on it while throwing an arm around Bokuto’s shoulder.

“Yeah, must be pretty interesting to hold your attention like this.” He teases, but there’s something sharp in his gaze that is unusual with the typical laidback second year Akaashi has come to know.

He’s glad his teammates understand. Well, all of them but one.

“He’s definitely pretty.” Bokuto mumbles, that blush turning a shade darker, before shaking his head and patting Konoha on the back. “And of course I’ll introduce you to Tsum-Tsum when we see him, he’s a great guy!”

“Looking forward to it.” Several voices reply at once, Akaashi is one of them. And he is looking forward to meeting this ‘Tsum-Tsum’ guy. As long as Bokuto keeps smiling like that he’s sure he won’t have a problem with him either.

Somewhere in the corridors of Inarizaki High Miya Atsumu shivers, as the sudden overwhelming terror of a mouse hearing the flap of wings and a mournful hoot washes over him. Maybe he’s spent too much time listening to Bok-kun talk about that documentary series he likes so much. But it’s hard to ask him to stop when hearing the enthusiasm in his voice as he lists off various avian facts makes the setter’s chest go warm.

Stupid feelings. Stupid crush. Stupid miles of distance between them that mean he’s not going to be able to see those gleaming golden eyes again for weeks.


	5. MSBY Shenanigans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sakusa sits in Atsumu's spot on the bus.

Atsumu pauses as he moves down the Black Jackal’s bus — one of the many benefits of playing for one of the top teams in the country is traveling in luxury and style — Inunaki shouts at him to carry on moving and he does with a stumble, mind still fixed on the sight before him.

Sakusa is sitting next to Boktuo.

Sakusa — who has always claimed a seat for himself no matter how short the journey — is sitting in Atsumu’s spot.

Atsumu and Bokuto always sit together on bus trips. It’s been a cardinal rule of the Jackals since Atsumu joined and Bokuto dragged him on to a seat for their first away game before proceeding to talk his ear off about their time in high school.

_ It had been silly and stupid and Atsumu had somehow found himself pulled into a childish game of I Spy with the grinning man for the rest of the trip. And if the nerves from playing his very first game on a professional team had settled because of it then that was no-one’s business but his own. _

Atsumu and Bokuto always sat together. It was practically a law like Tomas’ bringing some weird German baked goods — that were always incredibly delicious — to movie night or Barnes telling them his newest ‘proud father’ story while they were in the changing room. It may as well have been written in stone.

But there was Sakusa, sitting next to Bokuto with a bored look on his face like he hadn’t just broken one of the unspoken laws of the team and sent the universe into a chaotic spin.

Inunaki jabs him in the back and he moves further along the bus. It’s not like he can even sit near the interloper because the other seats around the parir are already full. He scowls and slides into one of the empty seats at the back, his plans for the journey utterly ruined by Sakusa’s selfishness.

If the voice in his head that sounds like Osamu points out that Sakusa hasn’t really done anything wrong he ignores it. Sakusa may still be new but he’s been on the team long enough to have seen that Boktuo and Atsumu  _ always  _ sit together.

It was only logical after all. The setter and the ace checking in with one another before the match to make sure they were in the best condition — though their version of checking in mostly consisted of travel games, sharing funny videos, and Atsumu doing his best to not turn bright red whenever Boktuo pressed into his side — how was he supposed to do that with Sakusa there? Really it was a risk for the team that they shouldn’t be taking.

“Somethin’ wrong Atsumu?” Meian asks from the seat opposite him with Barnes by his side. “Ya look like ya swallowed one of Inunaki’s protein shakes again.” 

Atsumu shudders at the memory and does his best to force a smile. “M’good cap, no need ta worry. Just thinkin’ about the game.” It wasn’t technically a lie since his inability to check on his...their ace might affect their performance. Meian hums but he’s wearing a smirk that reminds Atsumu too much of Kita for him to relax. 

“It’s nice to see Sakusa-kun settling in.” Barnes chimes in with a good-natured smile that makes Atsumu bristle nearly as much as his words. “I was worried he was feeling lonely, but he and Bokuto get on surprisingly well.”

Atsumu grits his teeth and looks out the window, willing the bus to start so that the journey can end sooner. Surprising? Bokuto could make friends with some of those terrifying creatures in the deep ocean if he wanted to. The only thing surprising was Sakusa pushing into Atsumu’s rightful territory.

He refuses to acknowledge the spike of fear in his chest that wonders what will happen now that he’s not the only member of the monster generation in the team that Bokuto can reminisce with any more. The fear that he won’t be special to the man whose grin makes Atsumu’s heart do backflips in his chest and turns all his smooth words to ash in his mouth.

He doesn’t acknowledge it because he’s a determined, competitive bastard and if there’s one way to get him motivated it’s to present a challenge or rival.

At least that’s what the others are hoping for as they watch their setter stew in his jealousy as Bokuto shoots him concerned looks for the whole trip.

Meian owes Sakusa big time for this.


	6. Royal AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected guest to Fukurodani's court threatens to destroy everything Atsumu has been able to build for himself.

Atsumu narrows his eyes at the map on his desk, mind whirring with strategies and contingency plans. He doesn’t care how glamorous Itachiyama’s envoy of peace is, until the treaty is signed all his units will remain on full alert. Like hell he’s going to let Fukurodani fall if this is some sort of elaborate trick.

The quill on his desk is old and rather wilted looking but it does the job perfectly well as he writes out orders for his men ready to be sent off by messenger bird this afternoon. Atsumu would have preferred to be with them on the border himself, but as tense as this whole diplomatic mission is making him it would be ten times worse if he was away from the castle. Onaga is young but he’s Atsumu’s second-in-command for a reason.

He’s reading through Komi’s latest intelligence report when he hears it; footsteps coming towards his door, rapid and hurried. Years of instinct have him reaching for his mask and he barely slips it on before his door slams open.

There’s a blistering reprimand on the edge of his tongue when he turns to see who has dared to enter his private chambers unannounced, but it dissolves into nothing when he recognises the man standing in the doorway.

“Koutarou? My lord, what’s—” he starts to ask before Bokuto’s voice cuts through and renders him silent.

“Why did you tell me?” Five short words but they’re spoken with such a wealth of emotion that Atsumu doesn’t know how to respond. It’s a plea, a demand, an accusation, and a reproach all at the same time.

Golden eyes — eyes that Atsumu loves so much, the ones he wakes up to every morning before sneaking out the window before the sun crept into the royal bedchamber — glare at him, hurt, angry, and confused, and Atsumu doesn’t know how to fix it.

“I don’t...Tell you what?” He mentally runs through Bokuto’s schedule for today — most of it spent with Itachiyama’s new ruler Sakusa Kiyoomi — trying to figure out what could have caused this reaction. Had the envoy said something about Atsumu? Some new story of the bloody deeds he’d committed during the war?

Bokuto was the one person Atsumu told all of that to — who held him, who loved him, who kept him safe when the nightmares of screams and blood became too much — so unless it was a lie it shouldn’t have shocked him.

_ And Bokuto never blamed him for what he did to protect Fukurodani either. He merely looked sad and kissed Atsumu’s bloodstained hands in the quiet of their room and promised to create a kingdom where such actions were no longer necessary. Atsumu believed him, he may be a fool for doing so, but he was a fool who would follow his king to the end. _

Bokuto walks towards him with burning eyes. Atsumu doesn’t move. His arms stay limp at his sides and Bokuto reaches up and removes the mask from his face.

There are three people who know what he looks like without it. Two of them know why he wears it. 

Atsumu stays still as Bokuto reaches up and runs a finger along his jaw. It’s gentle and tentative, a stark contrast to the anger simmering in his voice, and Atsumu relaxes minutely. Whatever it is, it can’t be too terrible if Bokuto still touches him like he’s something precious.

“Prince Sakusa of Itachiyama brought a guest with him today to the proceedings.” Bokuto states as his hand moves up Atsumu’s cheek to cup his face. Atsumu leans into it but keeps his eyes on Bokuto. Bokuto takes a breath and closes his eyes, steadying himself for whatever he’s about to say next. 

“His guest was Prince Osamu of Inarizaki.”

Atsumu’s world shatters in an instant.

There are three people who know what he looks like beneath the carved fox mask that has become the signature of Fukordani’s ‘Kitsune General’. Now all three know why.

“‘Tsumu why—”

But Atsumu can’t hear him. He’s lost in memories of fire and screams in the night, a blade dripping with his father’s blood emerging from behind a curtain, his brother clutching him in a vice-like grip, and the shout’s of palace guards from the window.

_ ‘I’m scared ‘Tsumu.” _

_ “D-Don’t worry, I got ya. As long as we’re together it’ll be okay ‘Samu.” _

_ “The king is dead!” _

_ “Traitors!” _

_ “Where are my sons?! _

_ “Please....please let him go. I beg you.” _

_ “Your highness what are ya doin’?! _

_ “Take ‘Samu and run!” _

_ “Don’t you dare leave me ‘Tsumu!” _

_ “I’ll find ya afterwards. I promise ‘Samu!” _

_ The burning pain of a knife cutting across his face and the hot wetness of his own blood dripping into his eyes. _

_ “Well, well look what I found boys.” _

Run. He needs to run and hide and piece himself back together before someone, anyone,  _ Koutarou  _ realises how broken he really is.

“Atsumu, come back to me.” 

That voice.

“I don’t know where you are right now Tsum-Tsum but I need you to come back.”

He’d promised that voice something, ten years ago, he’d made a promise.

“Can you do that for me?”

Anything.

Atsumu opens his eyes and the first thing he sees is Bokuto’s worried face. He chokes out a sob and that’s all Bokuto needs to pull him forward into a crushing hug. Atsumu sinks into the tight embrace and nearly cries when Bokuto starts to stroke his hair.

Why now?

Atsumu Miya died twelve years ago when his father, the king of Inarizaki, was slain by his own brother. The eldest of the twin princes had vanished into the night, never to be seen again apart from some bloodied royal robes that had killed any hope that the boy had made it out alive.

Fukurodani was so far away. He thought he’d be safe. He’d been so careful. Why was Osamu even here?

Even as he shakes in Bokuto’s arms he aches to see his brother again, to see him healthy and whole and alive. Reading reports about the revolution in Inarizaki and the successful dethroning of his treacherous uncle had been the closest he’d allowed himself to get to the situation.

“I’m here, it’s okay.” Bokuto mumbles into his ear, anger gone and grip not loosening for even a moment. Atsumu wishes he could believe him.

Atsumu isn’t going to get a happily ever after.

But he clings to Bokuto, clings to the one person he’d sworn a lifetime of service to, the person he’d given the entirety of his heart to because finally there was someone he could trust not to stomp it into the dust.

It’s selfish of him but he won’t let Bokuto go, not after everything. He pulls back to give himself just enough space to surge forward again and kiss the man; hard and sloppy with none of his usual finesse. His hands start scrambling for buckles and clasps and he needs to feel Bokuto’s skin under his hands. 

“Kou, I—”

Bokuto kisses him back just as fiercely. His eyes burning with a different emotion when they part, the pair of them panting.

“Later.” His king promises and Atsumu obeys.


	7. Mutual Pining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It doesn't take Hinata long to notice the thing going on between his two new teammates.

Hinata can honestly say that while he had expected many challenges when he’d been selected to join the Black Jackals, this hadn’t been one of them.

“Are you sure they’re not just pretending?” He asks his go-to warm-up partner, and now second newest player on the squad, Sakusa while they both stretch on the gym floor. “I mean it’s not like they’re being subtle about it.”

Sakusa grimaces and Hinata can almost see the irritation rolling off him in waves. Luckily three years in high school with Tsukishima and Kageyama have rendered him near immune to the negative aura of grumpy people. He also gets the feeling that it’s not really him that Sakusa’s annoyed with.

“I’m sure. Bokuto wears his heart on his sleeve and Miya’s never been able to hide how passionate he is about certain things.”

Hinata raises an eyebrow and sinks into the burn of stretching his legs. “And Bokuto is one of those things?”

“Yep.” Sakusa replies with all the surety of a doctor providing a diagnosis. “It’s volleyball, then Bokuto for him, and some days I think even that order changes.”

Now that  _ is _ surprising taking into account what he knows about his new teammates; Bokuto has been mad for volleyball since HInata first met him, and even after only playing two games against Inarizaki it was obvious that Miya Atsumu was never going anywhere but the professional league.

He turns his attention back to the two in question. They’d both been here already warmed up when Hinata had arrived — already a shock as Hinata was already early — and he’d felt unmistakable like a third wheel for part of the conversation until Sakusa had arrived and dragged him away to the corner they were in now. 

Atsumu is setting some balls for Bokuto, a pretty casual spiking practice before formal training begins and it wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary if it wasn’t for the way they were looking at each other. Atsumu is looking at Bokuto in a way that Hinata can only describe as fond adoration. His smile is a hint softer than it usually is, his sharp edges still there but welcoming and shifting to make room for another, and Hinata is pretty sure the setter doesn’t stare at anyone else’s ass like that too.

Then, of course, he turns away to get another ball and now Bokuto is the one looking. Bokuto, who stares at his hand for a moment before turning his gaze to the setter and smiling; not his signature bright, wide beam but something smaller, intimate and private. Bokuto looks at Atsumu like he’s found a treasure that was made just for him.

The longing is so obviously radiating from the pair of them that Hinata isn’t sure he hasn’t been transported into a Shakespearean tragedy. It’s why he isn’t completely convinced that the two of them aren’t just acting. No-one could be that oblivious right?

“Unfortunately, they are.” Sakusa chimes in again, helpfully letting Hinata know that he’d spoken that last part out loud. “And even more unfortunately they’re both idiots with a surprising lack of confidence when it comes to one another so they each think the other just wants to be friends.”

Friends? 

“You’re joking.” No-one with a lick of sense would describe the atmosphere around the two as solely platonic. 

Sakusa snort. “I’m really not. Miya thinks Bokuto is hung up on his high school setter, and Bokuto thinks he’s still got to prove something as the ace before Miya will like him back.”

“Wow.” Hinata himself isn’t the best at communicating off the court but this seems poor even to him.

Sakusa leans in conspiratorially. “It also doesn’t help that they spent a night together after a game last season but won’t talk to each other about it.”

Hinata nearly bangs his head on the floor in shock. “What?!” He hisses, this is the first time he’s heard any of this. While he wouldn’t expect Atsumu to say anything to him, he would have thought Bokuto might have.

There’s something a little smug about Sakusa, and Hinata gets the inkling his new teammate might be a bit of a gossip. Not that he minds, he needs the information now.

“Oh yeah, but try bringing it up with either of them and Miya either loudly changes the subject or Bokuto plays dumb. Must be exhausting maintaining that level of stubborn self-sabotage.” 

Hinata hops up to his feet as other team members start to enter the gym. Barnes sees him and waves which he enthusiastically returns — the man is over two metres tall and Hinata will never not be impressed by that — before turning back to Sakusa.

“I’m still not sure I believe you Sakusa-san.” He admits as Bokuto’s cheer fills the room. The ace smacks Atsumu on the back before running towards the others and they are all treated to yet another sappy look of longing before Atsumu’s usual smirk is back in place.

It can’t be that bad can it?

Sakusa only chuckles darkly.

“You will.”

It takes Hinata three practices to break and join operation ‘Idiots in Love’.

**Author's Note:**

> Really wanted to do something for this week and managed to get 7 small ficlets ready for each of the days! I hope you enjoyed day 1.
> 
> Feel free to come say hello on[ my twitter](https://twitter.com/Jen_B93) if you want, I post snippets from my WIP's and sometimes cool graphics to go with my fics as well!


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